


the weight (of my love)

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Implied Switching, M/M, Nicknames, PWP without Porn, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Scar Worship, Season/Series 07, Shoulder Fucking, Trust, shoulder fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 10:32:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16386233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: Keith’s obsession with Shiro’s shoulders goes to a whole new level when he asks if he can fuck them.





	the weight (of my love)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [restlessandordinary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlessandordinary/gifts).



> I saw a gifset on Tumblr of Shiro's shoulders and had the thought that Keith was probably obsessed with them. This was gonna be a short drabble but I'm me, so lots of smut and feelings happened. This is for Rachel, in honor of Keith's birthday today because Keith is her boy and what better way to celebrate him than with feelsy smut.
> 
> All the thanks to TDCats (heartofluxite) for the amazing beta job. <3

Sometimes being one-track minded had its benefits. 

It meant that no matter how much Hunk or Pidge or Lance prattled on about everything and nothing over the coms, Keith never lost track of the mission. It meant that no matter how stressed out Keith was, he never forgot the _really_ important things because he was so hyper-fixated on them forgetting would’ve been like not breathing. It meant that while Keith definitely still lacked patience, he often still got what he wanted because his determination and resolve meant he never stopped trying. It meant that even when Coran and Allura went on a tangent,, he never lost sight of the end goal. 

It meant that he never stopped fighting for what he wanted.

For _who_ he wanted.

The problem, however, was that being one-track minded meant that sometimes Keith got an idea into his head, and no matter how much he worked to get rid of the idea, he couldn’t shake it. No amount of diversion or logical reasoning could distract him from the thought. 

It meant that sometimes, Keith felt driven to distraction thinking about _the thing_ he couldn’t stop thinking about. Obsessing. Daydreaming. Mulling over the possibilities to the point of complete and utter preoccupation. Thinking about it until it was no longer a _what if_ scenario and somewhere along the lines became a _when_ scenario.

Which is exactly how Keith found himself tumbling into Shiro’s bed, both of them half dressed, begging Shiro to let him fuck his shoulders as he rucked up the cotton t-shirt beneath Shiro’s uniform, desperate to get his hands on Shiro’s bare skin.

“Um, what?” Shiro asked, his eyes full of surprise as he pulled back to stare at Keith. 

Keith felt a flare of embarrassment even though there wasn’t an ounce of judgment on Shiro’s face. There never was. He knew that out of all the people in the universe, Shiro would be the last one to ever judge Keith about what he wanted, especially in regards to them, but Keith still felt _weird_ about this. 

It was that somewhere between the Garrison deciding they all needed new uniforms—uniforms that fit Shiro like a goddamn glove, cinched with a belt at his trim waist and hugging his broad shoulders—and him and Shiro finally, fucking finally, taking that first step in their relationship weeks ago, Keith had realized he had a thing for Shiro’s shoulders.

Not that Keith hadn’t always been aware of Shiro’s shoulders. He’d admired them years ago, back when Shiro had still been with Adam and his infatuation with Shiro had bordered on pure adulation and puppy love. Then once Shiro had come back to Earth—back to _him_ —he’d been unable to not notice the way Shiro’s body had changed. The expanse of his shoulders seemed as infinite as the galaxies.

Certainly, some of the other changes in Shiro’s body were a bit startling, and he knew the new arm and drastically increased muscle mass were not things Shiro had chosen. _Champion_ , he whispered to Keith, that was what they had made him become. There was shame in Shiro’s voice, an emptiness that made Keith want to rage against the stars. 

Beneath all that pain and remorse, however, was the same Shiro that Keith had always known.

Something about Shiro spoke of a strength that had more to do with Shiro’s heart than his body size. There was a power in the way he moved, a toughness in his demeanor that hadn’t been there before. Shiro had been fucking imposing standing in the bridge of the Castle of Lions with his tight as fuck spacesuit, his thick thighs, and muscular arms and shoulders. But beneath it all had been the same boyish grin that Keith remembered from hoverbike races in the desert, the same softness in his eyes when Shiro had whispered, _“I’ll come back to you, Keith, I promise”_ just moments before he left for Kerberos. 

Things had gotten crazy for a while, or _crazier_ anyway, and between joining the Blades, finding out his mother was not only not dead but also not human, and realizing he’d been duped by a clone, Keith had begun to doubt himself—to doubt his relationship with Shiro.

Keith had vowed to never stop fighting for Shiro, to never stop saving him, and yet the guilt and shame of not having realized Shiro had been lost on the Astral Plane had caused a fundamental rift in the way Keith viewed his relationship with Shiro. He’d spent so long thinking he’d never be what Shiro deserved that he’d been unable to see what was right in front of him the whole time. He’d allowed the distance he felt from Kuron—the intangible and unquantifiable differences he’d picked up on—to be brushed aside as proof that one day their bond would fade. His own insecurities had allowed him to ignore that Shiro had needed him.

He’d vowed then and there to never do it again.

Of course, that was easier said than done, but as the weeks went on, Keith had found it easier and easier. There was a change in Shiro since he’d returned, a sort of quiet that hadn’t been there before and a sadness over his severed bond with Black. He seemed uncomfortable in his own skin, perhaps because it was never meant to be his. 

Keith could see him keeping his distance from the others, emotionally if not physically, but none of that seemed to affect how Shiro interacted with Keith. Rather than resent Keith for flying the Black Lion, he had seemed proud of him, had come to him in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep and shared his thoughts with Keith over the crappy alien excuse for coffee before the others were awake. And as they had journeyed to Earth, Keith had realized that he didn’t feel like he was coming home, because home was wherever Shiro was. 

Of course, the problem with no longer allowing himself to believe he was unworthy of Shiro meant that he could not longer pretend he wasn’t completely and utterly fucking in love with him. The only plus side was that once they were back on Earth and facing the Galra hellbent on conquering the galaxy, it was pretty easy to push what he now viewed as an impending love confession off to the side. What did his feelings matter when there was a universe to save?

But then had come the uniforms. The fucking uniforms.

It Keith had thought Shiro was attractive before, it was nothing to Shiro _now_. He’d finally settled into his new body, had stopped patting at the shock of all-white hair atop his head with nervous fingers and stopped asking Keith if his new prosthetic was too much. Keith secretly thought it was because everyone had gotten the new uniforms at the same time, and that while Shiro was very clearly still the Captain of the Atlas and technically outranked half the Garrison now, he felt more like he was part of a team again. The missing confidence was back, and there was a lightness in his steps as he walked through the halls.

But beyond the undeniable allure of the way Shiro had seemed happier and more settled, was the fact that the uniforms had been designed in a way that made Keith unsure if he wanted to shove Shiro up against a wall and fuck him, or beg Shiro to shove _him_ against a wall so he could be fucked. 

Shiro’s body looked incredible beneath the white and black fabric, the shiny black belt pulled taut at his waist. The gleaming gold stripes he wore proudly at his shoulder glistened in the sunlight in a way no one else’s did.

Luckily for Keith, Shiro had seemed to be as taken with Keith in his new uniform as Keith was with Shiro, because it was less than a week after Keith had gotten his own new uniform that Shiro had pulled him into an abandoned office and kissed Keith until his head spun, and he’d damn near forgotten how to breathe. Of course, then Shiro had gaped, apologizing and begging Keith not to hate him, mumbling something about _“The uniform, you look so good, I couldn’t take it anymore”_. Keith had promptly shut him up with another kiss, and the rest had been history. 

It turned out going from best friends who would quite literally cross the universe for each other, to lovers who would do the same, didn’t change nearly as much as Keith had thought it might.

Except for one thing. 

Keith no longer just fantasized about touching Shiro, kissing him, fucking him.Instead of looking at him from across the hallway and going back to his room alone, Keith knew that he would be slipping into Shiro’s Captain’s quarters as soon as the sun went down. Keith was positive he was never going to be over the novelty of being allowed to intimately touch Shiro, to watch the way he came undone and let go in a way Keith knew only he was allowed to see. Watching Shiro lose control was almost as much fun as Shiro making _him_ lose control.

Shiro’s shoulders. And his back. Or both. Fuck they were so intertwined in Keith’s mind he wasn’t entirely sure he could categorize the source of his distraction if he tried. Shiro now was exactly like Shiro a few years before. He had that same way of holding his body, that same habit of bracing himself on his forearm against a wall or cabinet with his legs spread wide, and his shoulders just there taking up space. The uniform wasn’t helping. Fuck, that uniform did things to Keith, made him want to beg Shiro to never take it off as much as he wanted to beg him to never put it back on. There was something about the stiff high collar and the dark piping of the black thread, the shiny button on his chest, and the way it fit him like a second skin. Shiro looked so good in it Keith sometimes wasn’t sure if he wanted the fucking to take place naked or clothed.

Either way, though, it all came back to the shoulders. 

Fuck, it was definitely the shoulders.

He’d known Shiro was broad shouldered for years. Someone only had to have two eyes to see how slim Shiro’s waist and hips were, and how wide and muscular his shoulders and biceps were. Shiro’s proportions were almost inhuman, and if Shiro’s body weren’t his for the worshipping, Keith would honestly be offended that someone as attractive as Shiro even existed. Instead, he felt pretty damn lucky.

But the problem, fuck—the problem.

The problem was one day he’d been standing with the others on the bridge of Atlas listening to Shiro go over the training he wanted to run with Voltron and Atlas together, and the next thing he knew, Keith had gotten the absolutely ridiculous—and embarrassing—desire to rub himself off on Shiro’s shoulders. He knew it was unusual, but fuck, Shiro had both hands on the shelf in front of him, leaning against it and Keith could see the ridge of muscles beneath his uniform, and all he could think of was what it might feel like to have Shiro facedown in the bed as Keith dragged his body over the sharp planes of his shoulder blades or let the head of his cock slide along the curve of his right shoulder. And fuck, did he want to press him down into the mattress and hear the sounds Shiro might make as Keith rutted at the hollow in between his shoulder blades.

“Keith,” Shiro said, voice cutting through his memories.

Keith licked his lips as he looked at Shiro. Shiro’s face was flushed, his eyes bright and unguarded, and the thumb of his left hand stroked Keith’s hipbone beneath his t-shirt.

“We can definitely pretend I didn’t just say that,” Keith mumbled, his face burning. Shit. It was one thing to be unable to stop thinking about fucking Shiro’s shoulders and another thing entirely to actually say it out loud. 

Shiro cleared his throat, the barest hint of pink spreading across the bridge of his nose. “We um, we can do that if you want. But I uh—” Shiro exhaled a shuddering breath. His hand had stilled at Keith’s hip and was digging in so tightly Keith was pretty sure there might be a mark tomorrow. Sometimes Shiro didn’t know his own strength, but Keith was strong enough to handle it. More than handle it really. Fuck, Keith loved when Shiro stopped holding back with him in every way possible. “But we could also _not_ forget.”

Keith’s heart was beating so hard he could barely hear himself think. 

“You, um….you want me to—” Keith gestured wildly with his right hand.

Shiro looked like he was fighting back a smile. “I’m not entirely sure what _that_ was supposed to be, but for the record, I want to do anything you want.”

Something heavy settled in Keith’s chest. Shiro was always saying things like that—as if making Keith happy were somehow the best thing Shiro could ever hope for. 

“I don’t want you to do things in bed just because I want them,” Keith said quietly, ducking his head down.

Shiro made a noise in the back of his throat, but Keith kept his face down, focusing on the rise and fall of Shiro’s chest rather than look at his face. The bed shifted beneath them as Shiro moved onto his knees, both his hands on Keith’s face guiding his gaze up.

“I realize most people have this notion that I’m never selfish, but I’m not that unselfish either. I don’t do things with you only because you want them. I do them because I want them too. I want _you._ I want you so much I feel like I might burn up from the inside out if I don’t tell you every chance I get. I want you so much the idea of not touching you, not making you happy, is as inconceivable as not breathing. I want you in every way possible. Keith, there’s not a single galaxy or alternate universe in which I don’t want you.”

“You can’t just say things like that,” Keith breathed, mesmerized by the flutter of Shiro’s eyelashes when he blinked.

“Why not?” 

Keith closed his eyes. “Because it makes me wanna say things I shouldn’t say yet,” he whispered, turning his head to press a kiss to the center of Shiro’s right hand. 

“What kinds of things?” Shiro asked quietly, his breathing the only sound in the room aside from the buzzing in Keith’s ears. 

“ _Everything_ ,” Keith answered, blinking his eyes open and placing a kiss on Shiro’s wrist. He watched the shaky flex of fingers in the prosthetic and felt a surge of pride. He knew the dexterity of the new arm was unparalleled, but they hadn’t quite got the sensations up to par. Yet. Which meant Shiro’s reaction was not based on the way it felt to have Keith’s mouth on it, but rather on the sight. Something about that bolstered Keith’s confidence, reminding him that he was not the only one overwhelmingly affected by all of this. 

At every turn, Shiro had been there reminding Keith he was not alone, in life, in space, in this relationship. Maybe, he thought, maybe the things he wanted weren’t _that_ weird. Or if they were, they clearly weren’t too weird for Shiro.

“Tell me what you want, baby, please,” Shiro said, his voice so earnest it made Keith’s last few walls of fear and self-consciousness crumble.

“You. I want you. I want you so much I feel like I might go crazy from it. Every time you talk, fuck, every time you so much as breathe, I think I can’t want you more, and then I do. You’re so fucking perfect. 

“I’m not—” Shiro starts, but Keith cuts him off with a shake of his head and a chaste kiss.

“Shit, I know you don’t see it. You don’t see it at all, and it kills me. But you have no idea how much I love you. Everything about you. And not just the things other people see, but the darkest secrets you keep in here. The way you keep fighting and trying and how much you fight for everyone, even the people who don’t deserve it.”

“Everyone deserves it,” Shiro says softly.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Keith says with conviction, moving onto his knees until he’s almost level with Shiro. “You’re just so _you_.”

Shiro’s lips turn up in a smile as he leans forward, his lips barely grazing across Keith’s. “That a good thing, baby?”

 _Baby._ Fuck. It’d been a week since Shiro had first called him that, and Keith wondered if it would ever stop making him feel weak in the knees. He hadn’t grown up with terms of endearments, and the only nicknames other kids have ever given him were ones that ended up with Keith giving them a black eye in return. So he’d been wholly unprepared for the sense of rightness it felt every time Shiro bestowed one of those sweet terms of endearment upon him as if they were the first and only people to have ever shared something that intimate.

“You know it is,” Keith tells him, chasing Shiro’s lips a bit too enthusiastically and toppling them back onto the perfectly made bed. Shiro let out an _oomph_ of surprise, his arms coming around to cradle Keith as if he needed saving from the ridiculous amount of pillows Shiro had on the bed—a holdover from his return from the Astral Plane, after which he’d quietly confessed in a sleep-deprived stupor to desperately being afraid of slipping back. Something about being cocooned in his sleep apparently made Shiro feel safe, and if Keith had anything to say about it he’d much rather have his body wrapped around Shiro providing that. Of course their jobs meant there were some nights Keith couldn’t make it Shiro’s room, so he kept the pillows there just in case. Keith longed for the time where Shiro wasn’t afraid of being alone.

“Then tell me what you want. You know I’m yours,” Shiro whispered in between kisses as he shoved Keith’s jacket the rest of the way off and reached for the hem of his t-shirt.

Keith pulled out of the kiss so Shiro could rid him of his clothing, but mostly so he could do the same to Shiro. 

“I want to fuck your shoulders,” Keith said, proud that his voice didn’t crack, He put his hands flat on Shiro’s chest, sliding them up to his shoulders and working his jacket off. Shiro complied easily, raising his body into a sitting position so that Keith could remove the jacket and the cotton shirt beneath it.

Once they were both bare chested, Keith let his hands roam again, mapping the expanse of skin on display for him, marveling at the strength in Shiro’s body—at the proof beneath the tips of his fingers of Shiro’s resilience and endurance. He knew Shiro hated his scars, but Keith never passed up an opportunity to touch them, bending down to drag his tongue across the furrowed skin of the largest one that went just from his left pec down in a harsh line across his chest above the flat of his hips. 

“Fuck, baby, thought you liked my shoulders,” Shiro groaned, his hands fisting uselessly at his sides.

Keith just hummed, practically lying across Shiro’s lap as he kissed his way across a smaller but deeper scar positioned just below Shiro’s navel. “Want all of you.”

Shiro inhaled sharply, his hands flying up to tangle loosely in Keith’s hair as he urged him into a kiss. Normally Keith would tease him about being impatient, but he was not feeling any better himself, and he let Shiro set the pace, their lips moving together as if they were one, while Keith’s hands fumbled to undo both their pants, and Shiro tightened his grip on Keith’s hair.

“Baby.”

“Fuck, get these off,” Keith groaned, abruptly moving out of the kiss and Shiro’s lap to shove his own pants and boxers down, kicking them to the floor in annoyance. Keith expected to be teased about his impatience, but Shiro threw himself onto his back, lifting his hips up and divesting himself of his own clothing as gracelessly as Keith.

Keith had all of two seconds to admire Shiro’s perfectly erect, leaking cock before Shiro swiped all the pillows off in one go with his prosthetic, a bit rougher than he probably meant, and sent them flying across the room.

“Eager?” Keith asked in what he meant to be a teasing tone but came out breathlessly.

Shiro turned his head to rest it on his folded arm, peeking back at Keith. “Always for you.”

Shit, Keith couldn’t even needle him, probably because Shiro always has to go and be so fucking honest it made Keith want to confess his undying for love half a dozen times a day. 

Keith straddled Shiro’s lower back, the warmth of his skin enticingly erotic beneath Keith’s body. With Shiro’s arms folded underneath his head, the breadth of his shoulders seemed, if possible, even wider, and Keith reached out to ghost his fingertips from the metal edge of his prosthetic all the way across to his left shoulder. Shiro shifted beneath him, letting out a sigh of contentment as his eyes fluttered shut. 

A part of Keith wanted to keep touching him like this, wanted to dig his fingers into the meaty flesh of Shiro’s body and work out all the tension and knots until Shiro was nothing but a puddle of relaxation beneath him. Except the urge to scoot up, to rub his his achingly hard cock across those muscles was too tempting. Another day, Keith thought, filing away the urge. Today was about something else.

Keith swallowed down the irrational surge of nerves as he leaned to the side and yanked open Shiro’s bedside drawer to grab the almost-empty tube of lube. They’d made good use of it recently, and Keith fought back a smile as he recalled Shiro’s capable fingers spreading him open the night before. 

Shiro shifted beneath him, opening his eyes and craning his head to watch Keith who felt his face warm at the attention. Biting his bottom lip, he uncapped the lube and squirted a generous amount into his hand before wrapping it around his cock and giving it a few slow strokes to coat it, hyperaware of Shiro’s eyes on the movement of his fingers. 

“Like what you see?” Keith asked, confidence bolstered by the way Shiro’s hips were shifting against the mattress and the speed of his breathing.

“Fuck, you make me crazy. You’re so beautiful, baby,” Shiro said. From anyone else the word beautiful would’ve made Keith rebel. He’d never wanted to be seen as anything remotely vulnerable or delicate, but somehow when Shiro called him that, instead of feeling weak it made him feel _strong_.

“You’re going to give me a big head,” Keith said, eyes on Shiro as he fondled his cock. It was more than thoroughly coated and every slow stroke was solely for Shiro’s benefit now.

“Mmm, your head is big,” Shiro said and Keith snorted.

“You cheesy fucker,” he laughed, unable to resist the urge to drop down and steal a kiss. The angle was awkward, but the way Shiro exhaled a shaky breath into the kiss made it worth it. “Now stop distracting me. I have important things to do.”

Shiro’s lips turned up at the corners.

“Oh, shut up,” he said again, the last of his nerves fading away into nothingness. Sure, Keith was introducing something new and sort of—or, alright, maybe a lot—kinky into their relationship, but it was still just _them_. It was just Shiro. The same Shiro who somehow managed to burn coffee and laughed at his own bad jokes and hogged all the blankets. 

“Any day now, baby, unless you changed your mind and—” but the words caught in his throat as Keith moved without warning, his hands bracing himself on the bed above Shiro’s head and his thighs squeezing Shiro’s upper back as he began to drag his cock over Shiro’s shoulders.

“Shit,” Keith mumbled, blowing the hair out of his eyes. He’d thought about this, more times than he cared to admit, but none of that compared to the sight of his cock sliding across the muscles of Shiro’s shoulder. It was good, so good, but it wasn’t enough. “Can you, _god_ can you shift up and um—brace yourself on your hands and knees?” he asked.

Shiro didn’t ask why, just nodded and Keith rolled off, watching as Shiro pushed himself to his knees, the wet spot on the sheets beneath him visible. He moved his arms next, his massive hands splayed out against the crisp white sheets as he dropped his head to hang down between his arms. Keith bit back a groan. God yes, that was what he’d wanted, to see the muscles at the edge of his shoulders pop, to see the hollow between the shoulder blades on display for him.

He wanted to tell Shiro he looked beautiful too. Wanted to tell him that Keith had never thought the idea of someone submitting to him would make him feel so powerful and powerless. He wanted to tell Shiro that he had the most beautiful body he’d ever seen, but that didn’t compare to the beauty of his heart. He wanted to tell him that Shiro made Keith feel sappy in a way he hadn’t known was possible.

Instead though, all he said was, “Fuck.”

“Come on, baby, you’re so hard for me. Wanna feel you,” Shiro whispered, and wasn’t that just like Shiro to encourage Keith even now.

Keith inhaled one last deep breath before standing, throwing his leg over Shiro and bracing his hands on the wooden headboard. He was grateful for the increased training, his thigh muscles straining as he dropped into a half squat and watched his cock slip between the sharp angles of Shiro’s shoulder blades.

“Oh,” Shiro gasped, seeming to understand what Keith had wanted as he widened his arms into a position that brought his shoulder blades almost together and ensured that Keith could feel them on either side of his cock as he frotted against him in near-frantic thrusts.

“Shiro,” Keith moaned, unable to take his eyes off the slick slide of his cock. Fuck, it was so good but he needed more, needed _something_.

Stilling his movements, he bent his head down, nosing at the side of Shiro’s face. “How long can you brace yourself on one arm?”

Shiro threw his head back as Keith sucked his ear into his mouth, letting out a breathy moan. “As long as I need to,” he answered.

Keith groaned. Fuck, Shiro was perfect.

“Need this,” he whispered, tapping his fingers on the wrist of Shiro’s prosthetic. “Want you to lay the palm over the hollow in between your shoulders. That okay?”

Shiro nodded shakily, bracing all of his weight on his left hand as the prosthetic arm floated behind him, settling over Keith’s cock. “Like that, baby?”

Keith returned to his previous potion, putting all his weight on the heels of his feet and digging his nails into the headboard hard enough he was sure there would be scratch marks, as he pulled his hips back and snapped them forward harshly and fuck, that was perfect. The added friction of Shiro’s hand was perfect as Keith’s cock continued to slide back and forth, the cool metal a stark contrast to Shiro’s fevered skin.

Shiro’s shoulders rose and fell with his labored breathing, and though he was almost perfectly still, Keith could tell from the shape of his open mouth as he sucked in breaths and the way his left hand was gripping the sheets hard enough to rip a hole through them that Shiro was as overcome as Keith.

“God, you feel so good, always make me feel so good,” Keith said, and the fingers in Shiro’s prosthetic twitched.

“ _Baby._ ”

“You love making me feel good don’t you? Love seeing how bad I want you? Love to see the way I feel when you touch me? No one could ever love me the way you do, could they, Shiro?”

Shiro’s breath hitched, his head falling down and the knuckles of his hand turning white.

Keith was so close he could feel the tingle in the pit of his stomach and the impending orgasm coming, as if waiting for a shooting star and fuck, he wanted Shiro to see how he made him feel, wanted Shiro to know the way he drove him crazy.

“I’m so close. God, I wanted it to last longer, but I can’t. That’s what you do to me. You make me crazy. I want you so bad sometimes it scares me because I know I couldn’t control it even if I wanted to. You’re so good to me, god—” Keith groaned, his legs burning as he snapped his hips, his pace becoming near brutal. Shiro’s hand pressed down a little harder, increasing the pressure and Keith let out a half scream as he began to come, thick globs of come splattering across the muscles in Shiro’s back. Still, Keith didn’t stop, continuing to move his hips back and forth, watching the come drip from the knuckes of Shiro’s prosthetic as every last bit was milked from his body.

“Fuck,” Keith panted, staring down at Shiro’s quivering shoulders, shiny with lube and dotted with Keith’s release. Shiro was a mess, and it was all because of Keith, and fuck if that didn't stir something deeply possessive in the pit of his belly, didn’t satisfy an urge Keith sometimes didn’t understand, because it was near painful in its intensity—a need to mark Shiro, to claim him as _his_.

Keith was so busy staring it took him a full thirty seconds to realize Shiro still wasn’t moving, that his breathing was more labored than ever, and that there was a deep red blush across the back of his neck.

“Keith, _please_ ,” he whispered as the metal arm finally returned to the bed. Shiro shifted his weight onto it, but remained on his hands and knees.

Keith released his hold on the headboard, clenching and unclenching his fingers to rid them of stiffness before dropping down onto the bed. Keith reached out, stroking the side of Shiro’s hip and watching as Shiro’s entire body shuddered, but still he didn’t move, so Keith moved instead, rolling onto his back and wiggling under Shiro until they were face to face.

“Hey,” Keith whispered, reaching out to brush the sweat-soaked tuft of white hair out of Shiro’s eyes. 

“Hey,” Shiro answered, but his voice was unusually shaky, and something flickered in his eyes, something vulnerable and needy that made Keith’s chest burn with the weight of his affection for the other man.

“What’s going on?” Keith asked, hands wrapping around Shiro’s waist to glide up and down his spine.

“You really want me,” Shiro said quietly, and for once he wasn’t looking at Keith but a spot on the bed above his shoulder.

Keith laughed softly, lifting his face to nudge Shiro’s cheek with his nose. “Yes, I think I make that abundantly clear near daily.”

Shiro turned his head to steal a kiss, his lips chapped but warm. “Yeah but...you got off from my shoulders. Even with the scars there. It’s just—” Shiro cleared his throat, dropping down to brace himself on his elbows instead of his hands so that he could bury his face into Keith’s neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the hollow of his throat.

Oh. _Oh,_ Keith thought he understand now. He’d known Shiro was self-conscious about the scars on his body, knew Shiro viewed his muscles and girth merely as something practical in order to help fight and defend, but he’d not realized until this moment that Shiro might not have realized how much Keith was attracted to _all_ of Shiro.

“I love your body,” Keith said, hands moving from Shiro’s back to his stomach. “You have no idea the things it does to me. You can’t imagine the thoughts i have, thinking about fucking you over the command station in Atlas, wanting you spread out beneath me in bed, or having you fuck me so hard I can’t remember my name. You're fucking gorgeous.”

“Keith—”

Keith shook his head, grazing his knuckles over the trail of hair that led from just below Shiro’s belly button down to his cock. “You have no idea how much everyone who looks at you wants you, but you’re mine aren’t you?”

Shiro let out a startled gasp as Keith wrapped his fingers around Shiro’s cock. Shiro was hot and heavy in his hand, and as Keith twisted his wrist on the downstroke Shiro moved his head to cover Keith’s lips with his own, emitting a desperate needy sound that made Keith’s ears ring. Usually Keith was the one who lost control, the one who felt desperate, but this time it was Shiro, his kisses turning sloppy and half-hearted, too much teeth and spit as he made noises into Keith’s mouth that Keith hadn't even known Shiro was capable of making.

“Shiro, fuck,” Keith managed to choke out between kisses, barely able to keep his strokes steady with the frenzied way Shiro was thrusting his hips into Keith’s hand.

Keith didn’t need to ask if Shiro was close, he could tell from the hitch in his breathing and the way his movements became almost erratic.

“Come for me,” he said, his left hand tangling in Shiro’s hair and pulling into a fierce kiss as he stroked faster. Shiro keened, his hips thrusting once, then twice more before he was coming, collapsing atop Keith like a one-ton meteor. Not that Keith had any objections. He was rather fond of being smashed by Shiro’s weight, felt secure and guarded in a way he’d rarely felt in all his life.

“You alright there big boy?” Keith asked when Shiro made no indication of moving. 

Shiro grunted in reply, his breath hot and heavy below Keith’s ear.

“We need to shower,” Keith tried, dragging the tip of his finger over Shiro’s sticky shoulder with a grimace.

Shiro grunted again, shoving his face further into Keith’s neck and mumbling something intelligible.

“What’s that?” Keith asked.

Shiro groaned, lifting his eyes to peer at Keith. There was a soft pink flush on his cheeks that Keith knew had nothing to do with exertion. He reached out, brushing his thumb over the ridge of Shiro’s cheekbone. Finding out Shiro blushed after sex was still one of Keith’s most treasured discoveries. He couldn’t explain why he found it so endearing, perhaps because he was the only one who got to see it.

“I said I liked that,” Shiro said, and though his voice was even it was impossibly quiet.

Keith bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot. “Me too.”

Shiro finally looked at him. “We could do that again.”

This time Keith couldn’t have contained his smile if he wanted to. “Yeah, yeah, we could. But maybe a shower first. There’s another part of your body I’m feeling rather inclined to fuck as well,” Keith said, letting his hands slide down Shiro’s body to squeeze at the thickness of his thigh.

Shiro groaned. “Fuck, baby, you’re going to kill me.”

Keith shook his head, planting a chaste kiss on Shiro’s lips. “No, I’m going to love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://teamtakashi.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/goldentruth813). :)


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